Sempre
by Darthanne
Summary: Trowa's new job alters the dynamics of his and Quatre's relationship. ( 3x4. AU )


Sempre 

by Anne Olsen 

Author's notes: 'Sempre' means 'always' and is a musical term. 

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. I promise to return the boys in one piece, more or less, when I'm finished, but hold no liability for any broken bones or psychological trauma sustained by them in my fiction. 

Thanks to: Bast and Raletha for beta reading, and Sakura for beta reading and supplying the summary. 

Send comments to: anneo@paradise.net.nz 

* * *

"Welcome to Hayman High School, Mr Barton." Miss Une held out her hand to congratulate Trowa on his new position.

"Thank you, I'm sure I'll enjoy my time here," Trowa replied, accepting the firm handshake. 

"We'll look forward to seeing you bright and early on Monday morning." Miss Une smiled before turning to the slim blonde receptionist. "Dorothy, this is Trowa Barton. He'll be starting here on Monday in Trevor's old position."

Dorothy raised one arched eyebrow. "Don't worry, Anne. I'll look after him and give him all the forms he'll need." She smirked, running an eye slowly up and down him as though sizing up merchandise. Trowa met her gaze straight on, and returned the action. Dorothy was attractive, sure of herself, and if the smirk was anything to go by, possessed a good sense of humour. "Like what you see, Mr Barton?" 

"Like what _you_ see?" 

"Touché," Dorothy laughed. "Dorothy Catalonia. I'm the admin around here. As long as you file your paperwork on time, I'm sure we'll going to get along just fine. A word of warning though." She leaned in closer, the smirk growing wider. "I see from your resume that you haven't taught in a girls only high school before. Mr Winner's been here almost three years, and he still manages to blush on occasion."

"Okay. Note taken. No blushing." 

"Did I say that? Quatre's quite cute when he blushes actually…" Dorothy's face turned an interesting shade of red. 

"Yes he…Umm, did you have some forms you needed me to fill in before Monday?" Trowa hoped she hadn't noticed the slip. Although a lot of people were tolerant of alternative lifestyles, Trowa didn't want to run the risk of revealing their relationship until he'd discussed it with Quatre. 

Several pieces of paper later, Trowa decided that he'd discovered yet another person involved in the unending quest of ways to torture hapless teachers. "I think that's it," he said, returning the pen to its owner. "I'd thank you, but I suspect you're enjoying watching me suffer."

"But of course. Nothing like watching a grown man squirm." Dorothy waved a hand to dismiss him, the glint in her eyes suggesting he wasn't mistaken about the subtext in her previous comment. "Any other questions?"

"No, I'm fine." Trowa shrugged his jacket on. "See you Monday." He glanced at his watch. Quatre should be just finishing choir rehearsal and he'd be able to surprise him with the news. 

"Goodbye, _Trowa_. I'll look forward to it." 

* * *

The grand tour he'd received on his first interview coupled with the useful map in the front foyer made finding the music suite easier than he'd thought. The first few classrooms Trowa peered into were empty, and he continued making his way down the corridor. 

"Put some feeling into it." There was no mistaking Quatre's voice or the underlying exasperation. "If you girls don't stop fooling around, I'm quite prepared to pull the choir out of the choral competitions." There was a pause. "You're more than capable of doing this. I know it's late, but we've nearly finished."

"Mr Winner just wants to get home to his girlfriend." The suggestion sent the rest of the class into giggles. 

"And you, Ms Weatherby, have just got yourself a detention. Does anyone else want to join her?"

"No, sir." The noise level of the room dropped almost instantly. 

Turning at the slight click of the closing door, Quatre's face lit up into a smile. "Won't be long," he mouthed. Trowa nodded, ignoring the sea of female eyes suddenly focused in his direction and made his way to an empty seat at the back of the room. 

"We have time to run through this song one more time," Quatre announced, sitting down at the piano and beginning his introduction. "But I'm prepared to stay past the time we usually finish if necessary. Keep that in mind and concentrate on the music please." Fingers ran over the keys, slowly at first then gradually accelerating. Trowa recognised the tune instantly; Quatre had played it several times over the past month, cursing when he'd stumbled over the difficult first few bars. Today, however, there was no sign of any hesitation and Trowa marvelled, not for the first time, at the way Quatre was able to become one with the music. 

Trowa had known that there was something special about Quatre when they'd met six months before. He'd never connected with anyone else so rapidly or so completely. Yes, they argued on occasion; Quatre could swear fluently in several languages and wasn't one to hide his feelings when annoyed, but the making up that often followed was nothing less than fantastic. Lying intertwined after sex, Quatre's head resting on Trowa's shoulder as Trowa played with his hair, was their favourite time to talk. They'd discussed everything from music to books, from philosophy to their hopes and dreams for the future.

There was an inner strength to Quatre even though he didn't seem to realise it. He'd been hurt far more by his father's rejection than he would admit. Trowa could see it in his eyes when he spoke of his family. In a perfect world parents would accept their children no matter what, but unfortunately reality was harsh. Hopefully one day Edward Winner would rebuild the bridges he'd burnt, but if he was anywhere near as stubborn as Quatre, it was doubtful. 

Quatre had told him that he'd entered teaching in the hope of introducing the next generation to the wonders of music and to share his gifts with others. It was an ideal Trowa could well relate to, but in their profession it was also so easy to become disillusioned. Budget cuts, kids not interested in learning - often it was difficult to ignore the urge to bang one's head against the brick wall of futility. But then just one pupil would come along to make it worth while, to reinforce the feeling that this was the right path in life to follow. The yellow brick road was long, winding and full of potholes, but it was worth the journey. The biggest problem for Trowa had always been finding the right travelling companion. 

The loneliness of his own journey had grown more pronounced as more of his friends had found the right girl and settled down into a life of wedded bliss. Few people knew of his sexual preference; it wasn't something one announced publicly when working in the education sector. While homosexuality wasn't illegal in most states – it was still difficult being different, and generations of bigots didn't just disappear overnight. His own family didn't have a problem with it; Cathy and her husband had constantly teased him about finding the right 'guy' and settling down, but Trowa was still cautious. Adding shyness to cautiousness made for a very slow, if not nonexistent, social life. Yes, he had friends he met with regularly but it hurt seeing them enjoying a closeness with their significant other that he often doubted he'd find himself. 

The girls' voices rose into a crescendo as they split into three-part harmony. Quatre nodded his approval, his fingers caressing the keys, the melody slowing again while he played the bridge leading into the new key. 

The glow of the afternoon sun reflecting on the wall behind him projected the illusion of an angel, face framed in a golden haze of blond, but Trowa knew his lover far too well to make that mistake in judgement. Angels weren't such wicked teases or so deliciously sensual in bed. Trowa might have been his first sexual partner but Quatre could invoke reactions the intensity of which sent him to heights he'd never known existed. Together they'd explored each other's bodies, Quatre's lean muscled body, naked and hot with desire shifting against his own, rubbing, stroking…

The high note hung in the air for several seconds afterwards. The girls didn't move into a relaxed position until the final bars were completed and Quatre removed his fingers from the keys. 

Trowa shifted in his chair, suddenly aware of his surroundings. 

"Much better," Quatre said, standing as he motioned the girls to sit. "The entry of the sopranos needs a bit more work at bar fifteen. You need to come in on beat two so that the harmony works properly. That delay does make all the difference. It's not noticeable to someone who doesn't know the piece, but remember, ladies, this is being judged by people who do." He paused. "Any questions before I dismiss you?" 

The answering titter rippled through the choir. 

"Okay, I'll rephrase that. Any musically related questions before I dismiss you?" Quatre caught Trowa's eye and grinned. "Nothing? Good. We'll see you after school next Tuesday then. The performance is Friday of next week. Any problems regarding transport see me before the next rehearsal. Good afternoon, ladies."

"Good afternoon, Mr Winner." 

It was difficult to miss the whispered giggles as the girls left the room in small groups. Trowa knew he'd be the topic of conversation for several days to come; Dorothy had been right in her insinuations that this would take a bit of getting used to. 

"Hey there," Quatre greeted him. "Sorry about before; these girls can be fair little minxes when they put their minds to it."

"No problem," Trowa gestured towards the piano. "The choir's sounding good. Once you get those bits ironed out, it will be nothing short of brilliant." 

One blond eyebrow rose and Quatre chuckled. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr Barton." 

"And here I was thinking you wouldn't notice my evil plan." Trowa glanced towards the door, checking for stragglers. Once he was sure there wasn't an audience he continued. "Seriously though…." Taking a step closer, Trowa pulled Quatre into his arms and held him tight. 

"Trowa?" Quatre leaned into the embrace, tilting his head so that their eyes met. "Is there something wrong?" 

"I just want you to know how special you are. You know I love you, right?" 

"Yes, I do." 

When Quatre broke the silence moments later, his voice hitched. "I can see it in your eyes, Trowa, in the way you look at me when you don't think I'm watching." He brushed his lips gently against Trowa's. "I'll never be able to thank Duo and Kathleen enough for bringing us together." [1]

"Oh, that wasn't their doing, it was serendipity," Trowa reminded him dryly. "Duo doesn't pull off the innocent routine any better than you do." 

"Moi?" Quatre pulled away, fluttering his eyelashes. "I'm sweet, innocent, angelic, naïve…Shall I go on?"

"If you want to," Trowa rolled his eyes. "It doesn't mean I'm going to believe a word of it though." He brushed his fingers through Quatre's hair. "That was me you were in bed with last night. Remember?" 

Dorothy was right, Quatre _was_ cute when he blushed. 

"How did the job interview go?" Quatre asked, in an obvious attempt to change the subject. 

"You're looking at Hayman High's newest English Lit teacher," Trowa told him with a grin. 

"They obviously recognise quality when they see it," Quatre leaned forward to reward him with a kiss. 

"Thank you," Trowa gave a mock bow. "Part of me is looking forward to it, the rest is scared shitless."

"You'll be fine. Besides you have me here to hold your hand. I can show you the ropes; it's not a bad school to work in once you get used to some of the quirks."

"Speaking of quirks, I've already met Dorothy." Trowa grinned. "I think she fancies you." 

"Do I want to know how my name came into the conversation?" Quatre groaned. "No, don't tell me. She had to warn you about the danger of being male in a school full of rampant female hormones. I got the same warning when I started three years ago."

"She also told me you blush beautifully," Trowa couldn't resist teasing and was rewarded by another rush of pink to Quatre's cheeks. "I must say I have to agree." His tone grew serious. "We'll either have to be careful about hiding our relationship or…"

"Yes, we will." Quatre interrupted him. "I want to tell them we're together, that I've finally found the man of my dreams but I'm not sure I'm brave enough to run the risk." He sighed. "Legally we have nothing to worry about - they can't fire someone because of their sexual preference - but there are still too many bigoted people in the world. Am I being selfish putting my career ahead of us?"

"You're not putting anything ahead of us," Trowa told him. "And I feel the same way. It's better to be safe than sorry." He took Quatre's hand in his own. "Just because we've decided to keep our personal and work lives separate doesn't mean we love each other any less. Besides, it would be unusual if the only two males in this school didn't strike up a close friendship, yes? Friends at work, lovers at home." 

"Damn, there goes that idea of having wild monkey sex on the piano," Quatre squeezed Trowa's hand tightly. "Of course…" Quatre paused, his brow creasing, "I have been thinking about getting in a boarder for some time now."

"To help make er…ends…meet," Trowa suggested, his thumb stroking Quatre's. "I might know someone who could be interested in filling that vacancy." He seated himself on the desk and Quatre pulled himself up next to him. "Of course it all depends on the suitably of this person." 

"Hmm," Quatre pretended to think over possibilities. "I do have one problem though."

"Oh?"

"Would this person, depending on their meeting my rigid criteria for suitability…"

"I'm sure they'd be quite rigid in their performance," Trowa interrupted with a smirk. 

"I was about to tell you about my problem," Quatre sniffed. "But if you aren't interested…"

"Yes?"

"The person would have to be prepared to share my bed." 

"Are you propositioning me, Mr Winner?" 

"I might be." Quatre's next words were hesitant, as he dropped the suggestive banter. "Trowa, would you…would you like to move in with me? Not temporarily until you find a place of your own, but…" His wistful smile made Trowa's breath catch. 

_Does he realise the effect he has on me when he does that?_ Trowa wondered. He pulled his hand away and cupped Quatre's chin with his fingers, lifting it so that their eyes met. "Why do you think I applied for this job? I wanted something closer to you. I don't want to go home at the end of the day to an empty house. Cat, I want to come home to you. I want your face to be the last thing I see each night, and the first I see in the morning." His own smile felt just as wistful as Quatre's. "Do you want…are you ready to take the same step forward?"

"Yes," Quatre's fingers brushed against his own before slipping behind Trowa's head to bring first their foreheads together, and then their lips. "I'm ready," he said, reluctantly breaking the kiss to explain. "More than ready." 

Sliding off the desk, Trowa held out his hand in invitation. "I was going to suggest we go out to celebrate my new job, but I think I'd like to spend the night at home."

"At _our_ home," Quatre corrected, pausing at the classroom door to check everything was switched off. "They say that home is where the heart is." He laid his hand across Trowa's chest. "Mine is here. Hopefully forever."

"Forever," Trowa agreed, needing to pretend that at least for today, happy endings weren't just for fairy tales. "Forever and…always." 

* * *

Notes: 

[1] In Serendipity, the first story in this arc. 

* * *

Fin 

* * *

  
  



End file.
